


High Hopes

by rafidesuyo



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Past Abuse, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7517170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafidesuyo/pseuds/rafidesuyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ryan thinks about it, they're both broken, in different ways. Maybe they could heal each other.</p><p>  <i>Maybe.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	High Hopes

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been working on this fic for months. Well, at first I thought it will be a 3000-4000 words-ish fic, but it...slowly grows. And it's still growing, so I decided to split it. Ehehe.
> 
> Also, kind of inspired by Kodaline's High Hopes music video. Hehehe. I hope you enjoy!

Ryan was more than ready to finish his life that day.

He was standing close to a cliff, his gaze empty as he stared to the pit below. It looks beautiful. He wonders, what would happen after he fell? Would anybody find out that he jumped to the cliff? Would the color of his blood visible on the sharp rocks below? Would anyone find his car, considers themselves lucky and took it away?

Whatever he thought, it wasn’t really necessary.

After all, he won’t even be breathing to know the answer of these things, after he fell. And really, he was ready. Yet his mind keeps bothering him to think about things, unnecessary things that won’t even bother him after he fell.

Ryan took a deep breath, and then took another step forward. He closed his eyes; was one step away before jumping—when he heard a voice.

It sounded like a hurried footsteps, and then it was followed with a shout. “Hey!”

That sounded like a man’s voice, and Ryan tried not to sigh in annoyance. Not like he wanted an audience, though; he wanted to jump in peace. The man called out once again, and Ryan finally turned his head to tell the man to fuck off.

But almost— _almost—_ all of his annoyance flew away when he finally noticed the source of voice. It was a man—or maybe a boy, he couldn’t be older than Ryan. He was panting; his short, dark hair disheveled, and brown eyes full of panic. Even from the distance, Ryan could notice a bruise forming from under the boy’s right jaw and just below his left eye, also the cut on his lower lip. He was only wearing a thin shirt and a pair of jeans that was ripped on the knees, and Ryan wondered if the boy was cold.

“Help, please,” the boy spoke again, shivering. He looked scared, although not to Ryan. “They’re going to kill me. Help me.”

Ryan wondered who _they_ were, and considers his options. He had several; to help the boy and failing in killing himself, or to let the boy be killed by ignoring him and jumping to the cliff. Ryan probably should consider the latter option, because isn’t that what he came here for? But the look on the boy’s eyes made something inside of him shifted with sympathy, made a little something inside of him felt like maybe, maybe he could face tomorrow. Maybe he could feel human once again, if he helped the boy.

But it all was still a probability. What if the boy fucked his life even more?

The sounds of footsteps grew closer, and the boy stepped closer to him. The steps that the boy took were careful, though, as if he feared that Ryan would jump off instead. “Please help me.”

The look on the boy’s eyes was getting unbearable, even to Ryan’s stony, icy heart, and he sighed. He took one glance to the cliff below, then to the boy, muttering, “fine.”

As the word slipped free from his lips, the boy’s face brightened. He looked really, really happy, and he beamed. “Thank you.”

Ryan took another glance to the cliff, and thinks, _I’m giving this a shot. If it goes to hell, I’m going back._

The boy was still standing on the same spot, although his face grows a little more tired, and even though he starts to shiver more visibly. Ryan sighed as he walked past the boy, before taking off his jacket and giving it to the boy. The weather was cold, now that Ryan took off his jacket he noticed it, but the boy looked like he needed it more than Ryan does.

The boy eyed the jacket for a few seconds, before lifted his gaze to Ryan and smiled. “Thanks,” he muttered, taking the jacket from Ryan and putting it on.

It was a little bit ridiculous, though, because the boy was smaller than Ryan and the jacket looked ridiculously oversized. The footsteps grew louder that Ryan could hear it clearly, as the boy’s expression became even more restless, and Ryan motioned to his car. “Come on.”

They walked to the car in quiet, hushed steps, and slides into the car silently. The silence stretched, even after Ryan started the car and started to drive.

Time passed as they drove through a forest, and the silence became somewhat uncomfortable. There’s something that’s going on inside the boy’s head, and even with him driving, Ryan could feel it. He wanted to ask, honestly, maybe offered for the boy to talk it out, but he realized that he’s probably not in the right position to offer so.

They drove through the silence, and Ryan was wondering if he should stop and drop the boy somewhere on the road and goes back to the cliff once again when the boy’s voice broke the silence, “What’s your name?”

Ryan took a glance to the passenger seat, and the boy was looking at him. Ryan’s gaze lingers on the boy for a millisecond, and he thought, he looks bad. The boy doesn’t look better from how he was earlier; yet he doesn’t look worse, he’s just. “I’m Ryan.” Ryan answered, taking all of his attention back to the road. Not that there’s any other cars passing by right now, anyway. They were still too far away from the town.

“Ryan, huh,” the boy said, and Ryan took another glance. The boy was smiling. “I’m Brendon. Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

For some reason, the boy—Brendon looked apologetic, as there was some glint of sadness in those brown eyes. The smile that painted his face looked pretty sad, as well; and Ryan doesn’t know why. He looked like he wanted to say something to Ryan, but as Ryan waited, it never came.

“Nice to meet you too,” Ryan replied after what seemed like five whole minutes of silence, and just by that, the awkward silence’s back. Not that it’s going to stay long, though, as Ryan noticed that the trees are going distant, telling him that they’re exiting the forest.

“So,” Ryan said after another brief minute pause, and from his peripheral vision, he saw Brendon shifted a little on his seat. “You got someplace to stay?”

Ryan was greeted with silence, and he frowned. Did the boy fall asleep? Did he shift earlier because he was uncomfortable in his sleep? He turned his head to look, probably expecting to be greeted with the sight of the boy sleeping on the passenger seat, but instead, he’s looking at Ryan. He’s looking at Ryan with the same eyes as before, the ones with a glimpse of sadness inside those brown orbs.

Brendon stared for what felt like hours—which actually could be seconds, Ryan doesn’t know; when he finally said, “No,” while shaking his head. He flashed a smile, after, and it tugged something inside Ryan. “But it’s okay if you could drop me at a bar or something—”

Even before Brendon finished talking, there were millions of bad scenarios running through Ryan’s head. That Brendon could be killed by the people chasing him down; kidnapped, or maybe—Ryan doesn’t want to think about another possibilities. Not that he knows _why_ he thought about that; not that he knows why he even _cares_ this much—and said, “I have some spare rooms in my house,” instead of shrugging it off and dropped him on some shady bar like Brendon briefly suggested earlier.

Brendon wasn’t finished talking when Ryan interrupted him, and he stops just like that. He blinks a few times, but then he smiled.

This time, the smile looked brighter. Happier. Like how he smiled before, when Ryan agreed to help him run away from whoever chased him down. “Thank you again, Ryan. I owe you.”

Ryan almost— _almost_ said, _no, I owe you,_ but he doesn’t really know why he should say that to the boy, so he just hums in response.

The boy leaned back against the passenger seat, and Ryan heard his soft sigh. They were silent once again; the only sound filling the atmosphere is the sound of the car’s engine, and the sound of their quiet breathing. Although by now, the silence felt less uncomfortable, even though they didn’t talk _that_ much before.

Sometimes, Ryan would steal a glance to the boy, and most of times, he noticed that Brendon was staring at his car radio, which was turned off by now. But now, as Ryan stole a glance to the boy, he was staring at Ryan.

Brendon caught his glance, and his lips turned into a small smile. He looked somewhat shy, smiling like that, or maybe it’s just Ryan’s head messing with him. Brendon eyed the car radio once again, then, “Is it on?”

“What?”

“The radio. Is it on?”

Ryan shoots a glance towards Brendon, and he looked somewhat hopeful. “Yeah. Yeah—it’s on. Turn it on if you want to.”

The smile that Brendon gave was bright, and something stirs inside Ryan’s heart. The boy immediately turned the radio on, and a second after, a familiar song came out to play. It was Fall Out Boy’s song, Ryan recognized, just because he likes the song as well.

If possible, Brendon’s face lit up even more. “Hey, I know this song,” he said, and he starts to sing along.

Ryan almost hit on the brakes hearing Brendon’s voice. It was way much different from what he expected; although he himself wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The boy’s voice was surprisingly good. Sure, it sounded a little raw here and there, but his voice was good.

Brendon looked really happy as he sang along to the song, though. And that, for some reason, brought a smile to Ryan’s face. It was just a faint smile, but when Brendon looked over, he noticed nonetheless. The boy’s face broke into a grin, and then he said, “Sing along with me, Ryan!”

Ryan only lets his smile grows a little wider, though, and Brendon laughs. He looked good like that, expression all open and happy and well; he sounded good like that, and his voice when he sang along to the radio was really, really calming, for some reason. He somehow found himself humming along some time later, and Brendon looked happier.

Ryan lets himself smile a little more, making the smile a little bit more noticeable as he keeps driving back to his place. Maybe, maybe this time he made a good decision.

-x-

The thing is; Ryan came to the cliff to—well. Which means; he kind of forgot that he left his house like this, like someone had robbed his house. As soon as he pulled to the parking lot, he realized that his house was a complete mess, and almost banged his head to the steering wheel.

“So, uh,” Ryan started after he turned off the car engine, which made Brendon look up at him and blinks a few times. The boy had drifted off to sleep for a few minutes earlier, probably exhausted because he keeps singing whenever there’s a song that he knew played on a radio and was just awake again by another few minutes. It was a long ride back to Ryan’s house. “My house is, uh, a mess. Well. I mean.”

Brendon raised an eyebrow; the sleepy look was still clear on his face, along with an ‘ _I don’t really care about that’_ look.

But still, Ryan felt quite uneasy. They slowly slid out of their seats from the car and walked to the front door, Brendon’s movement careful and sluggish, as if walking hurts. As soon as Ryan opened the front door, he winced.

Clothes scattered everywhere; on the couch, on the floor, and other places. The dishes are piling up in the kitchen sink. It looks somewhat horrible.

Ryan expected Brendon to mock him or something—but no. All he heard is a light chuckle, and when he finally dared himself to look over to the other, Brendon was smiling. The smile was light and warm, and Ryan felt something fluttered in his chest. “You’re a man who couldn’t take care after himself, huh?”

Ryan didn’t have a right answer for that—but who has, anyway?—and responded with a nervous chuckle. Brendon was still smiling, bright and warm beside him, but then he tugged on the end of Ryan’s shirt. It reminds Ryan of a little kid. “Come on, let’s clean up some.”

He was actually surprised by the other’s offer—but before he could even think twice; or even think, Brendon pulled away from him and starting to pick up some of his clothes from the floor. “Do you have a laundry basket?”

Ryan blinked. “I have,” he said, retreating from where he was standing to retrieve the laundry basket, and placed it on the living room. Brendon dumped the shirt he’d been picking up from the floor, then started to pick the others from the other places.

It felt somewhat ridiculous, actually. Brendon was the boy he met not more than two hours ago—yet he seemed at ease, even though by now, he’s in the house of a stranger. Sure, they’ve introduced themselves and all, but it still feels somewhat…weird. That made him wonders about things—and reminded of some _things_ that he actually doesn’t want to be reminded about.

Not to mention that the one who started cleaning up the mess in his house was Brendon, not him; the owner of the said house. Ryan inched closer to Brendon, who was still picking up some of his shirts that were scattered across the floor, helping him.

He kept his eyes on Brendon, who was still crouching to pile up the shirts on the floor, and thinks. Watching. And thinks further; _Isn’t this somewhat supposed to be creepy to him?_

“Aren’t you scared?” Ryan said before he could stop himself—and Brendon looks up from the small pile of clothes he had picked up from the floor earlier. The boy quirked an eyebrow, then tilting his head to the side slightly, shooting Ryan a questioning look. Then, he asked, “Why would I be?”

Ryan looked right into the boy’s brown eyes, just for a brief second, and looked away. Most of his clothes that weren’t in his bedroom were already collected in the laundry basket, and he settled his gaze there. “I mean, I’m just someone you just recently, randomly met. Aren’t you, like, supposed to be scared at me?”

Brendon was silent, and his gaze was still locked to Ryan. Sure, Ryan wasn’t looking at Brendon, but he could feel the boy’s gaze on him. “Why should I be?” he asked, again.

Ryan thinned his lips, looking away, locked his gaze to the ticking clock on the window. It’s getting dark soon, he has just noticed. “I could do bad things to you. Why aren’t you scared?”

Brendon was silent, and he continued to be silent for a whole minute that Ryan had to turn his head to check if Brendon was still there. He was; in fact, Brendon was staring at him with those beautiful brown eyes.

Brendon’s expression was—Ryan couldn’t really describe how. It was blank, maybe, but it wasn’t _that_ blank, like there’s some sort of expression that Ryan never knew before. It might be pity, but that’s not it. It might be sadness, but that’s not it, either. Ryan doesn’t know.

“If you were a bad guy, you probably won’t ask me that,” Brendon said, after another minute of silence. The shorter man never tore his gaze away from Ryan, and as much as Ryan wanted to look away, he found himself that it’s almost impossible. “If you were to do _bad things_ to me, you probably had done it the moment we were out of sight. Or the moment we entered this house. You didn’t.”

Ryan couldn’t quite agree with what Brendon said. “But I could still do bad things to you, even after.”

A few seconds lapsed in silence, and Brendon’s lips tugged into a smile. It’s small, and it looks sad. Ryan’s heart ached. “You won’t. I believe in you.”

Ryan continued to stare at him, and Brendon lets out a light chuckle as he walked closer to him and patted Ryan’s arm. “Now, let’s continue to clean your space, ‘kay?”

Ryan could only nod at that.

The amount of clothes that he left everywhere was ridiculous, and Brendon decided to wash them the next day. He then helped Ryan to wash the dishes, which were already horribly slimy and smelly and Brendon keeps laughing the whole time. Ryan somehow found it was nice to have someone around like this—he doesn’t feel as empty as he usually felt. It took time to wash all the dishes, but they managed to get it done. Ryan was exhausted by the time it finished, but Brendon looked somewhat pleased so he decided that the exhaustion was somewhat worth it.

“Look, it’s actually nice to have your space cleared, right?” Brendon asked—or more like, teased, and his eyes glinted with something that warmed Ryan’s heart. It’s ridiculous. He nodded anyway.

Seconds passed, and there’s this atmosphere of awkwardness that shouted its presence from nowhere. Ryan doesn’t know from where it emerged. Brendon looked somewhat nervous, suddenly, as he looked around for a while.

“Make yourself at home.” Ryan said, then, but it was probably a few hours late. Brendon turned his head to Ryan’s direction, blinking a few times, and then smiled.

“Thank you.”

Brendon settled himself on the couch, then. As Ryan watched him, he just realized how tired the other man looked—and how alarmingly noticeable the bruise on his cheek had become. And how small Brendon looked like, engulfed in his hoodie like that, a little oversized that it almost drowns the smaller man. Ryan figured that he should offer the other a shower, or maybe, some medicines. Or something. Ryan’s not good at this. He’s never good at this.

Brendon stretched a little, and he winced. Ryan almost winced in sympathy as well. “Are you okay?”

It hadn’t been more than a few minutes, but Brendon looked at him in surprise, like he hadn’t noticed that Ryan was still there. He looked way too surprised, in Ryan’s eyes. “Uh? Yeah—um. I could use some painkillers if you have some, though. If that’s alright.”

He does have some, in his bedroom. So Ryan nodded and went to fetch the painkillers in his bedroom. It doesn’t take too long, just a few seconds before he found the bottle of painkillers. A rush of bad memories went back, and he quickly went back to where Brendon was.

Brendon was still sitting on the couch, looking painfully tiny, and he was staring with wide, brown eyes. He said nothing as Ryan handed him the painkillers, swallowed some, and gave it back to Ryan. Then, after a minute of silence, he said, “You have a guitar.”

Ryan blinked. Of all the things that Brendon could have said, that was the last thing he would figure that the other man would say. “Huh.”

The light in Brendon’s eyes was different, now, as Ryan realized it. It looks lighter, happier. Something warm spreads through his chest. “Do you play?”

He used to, years ago. Back when everything was still all sunshine and laughter, not darkness and depression like this. “I used to.”

“Can you still play it?”

Ryan would have answered no, if Brendon wouldn’t look at him like that. He looked hopeful, and Ryan kind of couldn’t form the word _no._ He looked really, really hopeful, and Ryan somewhat doesn’t want that expression to fade away. “I don’t know, I haven’t played it in years.”

Brendon beamed, though. Ryan’s heart ached, for some reason. “Play something!”

“I’m probably rusty,” Ryan said, trying to find an excuse. Brendon wasn’t buying it. He was still beaming, his expression light and hopeful, and Ryan sighed. “Alright, alright, but if my playing was bad, don’t mock me.”

Brendon has this impressive ‘I-don’t-care’ look in his face, and Ryan found himself smiling. He couldn’t help it. It feels weird and foreign in his face, after a year of sadness, but he had to admit that it felt kind of nice.

Ryan lets the smile stays in his face as he walked back to his room to fetch his guitar, then walks back to the living room and sat on the couch beside Brendon. By now, the other man was sitting cross-legged on the couch, looking comfortable.

Ryan fumbled with the strings for a bit, feeling pretty rusty after not playing it for a long, long time, before he finally produces something. At first, he didn’t really recognize the song he played, but then Brendon laughed. It doesn’t sound mocking, instead, it sounds light and happy, and Ryan’s heart flutters.

“Elvis Presley? Seriously?” Brendon asked, and Ryan almost chuckled himself. He felt his lips twitch to a smile, but left it at that, and just shrugs.

Ryan continued playing, humming along as his fingers slides around the strings. Not long after, Brendon joined in, closing his eyes before he started on singing along with the song.

It fits perfectly, Ryan realized, his playing with Brendon’s voice. It felt oddly comforting, and he found himself doesn’t mind at all by this situation. He doesn’t mind at all by Brendon staying in his house, despite the circumstances, and he doesn’t even mind playing his guitar again.

He realized that he’s fucked, but in a good way.

-x-

Ryan plays several songs after that, and Brendon fell asleep somewhere along the songs. Ryan doesn’t stop playing even after Brendon fell asleep, though; instead he keeps playing some more melodies that were stuck in his head and that weren’t particularly anyone’s song.

He stopped playing when the clock strikes seven, and places the guitar back to his room. He thinks about waking Brendon, maybe offer him shower or dinner but the other man doesn’t even stir when Ryan shifted him into a more comfortable position on the couch, so he ended up covering Brendon’s body with a blanket instead.

Ryan made dinner anyway, just some instant soup that he found on his kitchen cupboard and wasn’t due to its expire date yet. He grabs a bowl, cleaned up, and left a note for Brendon to go ahead and eat the soup if he’s hungry, and goes to bed. It was still nine, but he was tired enough and he had nothing else to do anyway.

Somewhere along the night, Ryan felt someone shook him awake. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper, so he woke right up, blinking sleepily at the clock on his nightstand. It was still dark, and it took some more blinking to successfully read the clock; it was still one in the morning.

“Wha—?” Ryan mumbled sleepily, blinking a few times before he looked up to the person who woke him.

It was Brendon, and he was looking at him with a pair of huge, frightened brown eyes. His hand that was still on Ryan’s shoulder was shaking. Ryan blinked several times again, just to focus his eyes, and as he could see more clearly, he could also see that Brendon’s whole body is shaking.

“Can I—” Brendon started, but he fell quiet once again. It sounds wrong. He sounds so tiny, scared, shaky, and Ryan wasn’t even completely awake yet. Brendon was still shaking, but then he opened his mouth again. “C-can I sleep with you?”

Ryan wanted to ask ‘ _Huh, why?’_ but his heart forbids him to, so he just nods and scoots over on his bed to give Brendon room. Brendon doesn’t say anything as he settled down on the bed beside Ryan, not even _thanks_ , and Ryan wondered what happened in his dreams earlier, but neither speaks.

His mind told him to _ask something, say something_ , but his heart says _no, leave it alone_. Ryan doesn’t know what to believe, but he stays silent. Brendon stays silent, as well, curling into a ball with his back facing Ryan.

Brendon doesn’t sleep until the morning, and neither does Ryan.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedbacks are always appreciated! <3


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